


Rekindled

by HeartOfTheMirror



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Banter, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Character Study, Clothes Porn, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Past Relationship(s), Smut, Star-crossed, Team Dynamics, Teasing, Undercover as a Couple, figuring out how to have a relationship again after two people have both changed to drastically, team of two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: Bucky just wants to be left alone to scrap together some kind of life for himself in anonymity.Natasha shows her former Soviet partner that she still misses and cares for him, in her own way.





	Rekindled

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lines We Share](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961037) by [kath_ballantyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kath_ballantyne/pseuds/kath_ballantyne). 



> Many thanks to my excellent beta DrowningByDregrees <3
> 
> And also to my ASTOUNDING artist [Kath Ballantyne](http://kath-ballantyne-art.tumblr.com/)!

**Three months after the destruction of SHIELD**

 

The light turned on and Bucky’d thrown one of his knives before he’d even finished opening his eyes. Natasha sidestepped in time only because she was expecting that exact move, had seen him do it before nearly a dozen times. Times when she had been coiled at his side, thumbing off the safety on her pistol. 

“Natasha?” Bucky asked wildly, not faltering from his perfect fighting stance even a fraction. His eyes were sharp, his grip deceptively loose around the handles of his knives, and his entire body angled toward her. It was safe to say that Natasha had Bucky’s full attention.

“If I can find you he can too,” Natasha said simply. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door jamb. From anyone else, the relaxed, cocky posture might have indicated an unwillingness to fight. Wise to her ways, and those of the Red Room who had taught them to her, Bucky didn’t let himself relax even a fraction.

“Unless?” Bucky said warily, recognizing the steps of the dance even when a few weeks ago he hadn’t recognized the woman across from him. 

“I don’t want anything from you,” she told him nonchalantly, though whether or not she believed her own lie was anyone’s guess. “My terms should be easy to agree to, even for you.” Bucky let himself quirk a little smile at that, just to show her he was listening, he remembered. 

Most people who knew him personally seemed to be under the mistaken impression that he was reasonable. Something about his calm, affable manner (when his brains weren’t being scrambled to shit) made them think that he was agreeing with whatever dumb bullshit they spouted. It was only when he ignored whatever they said and did what he was going to do anyway that they got the picture. 

Brooklyn boys were stubborn little bastards.

“You would have to lie to Steve,” Bucky cautioned. Steve should have been an easy man to deceive- and he certainly could be when he wanted to be- but there was something about his earnestness, his trusting big blue eyes, and his stubborn inability to let even the smallest thing go, which imposed a heavy price on those who lied to him. 

“I’ve lied to Steve before,” Natasha said calmly, curling one finger around the silver arrow necklace she wore. “I lied to Steve the last time I saw him, standing over a gravesite reading your file. It should lead him straight to Russia. Karpov and the last wisps of the Red Room will keep him busy long enough for me to get you settled somewhere.”

“And SHIELD?” Bucky asked, more fishing for clues about whatever she had planned than anything else. 

Natasha dropped her hand away from her necklace and grinned at Bucky, all teeth and wicked promises. “Steve made a very impassioned argument against allowing them to survive in any form. It was moving. I was moved.”

“So you’re going to pick off your former colleagues? Friends? Lovers? All because the great Captain America gave a speech?” Bucky asked in his most scornful Russian, stalling for time, pecking at the armored wall she’d built around herself to see what might give if he got lucky.

“The ones who were secretly working for Hydra? Yes,” Natasha answered smoothly. “The ones who weren’t but who want to build the organization back up to the glory days? Those, I’ll have to get more creative with.”

“Good luck with that,” Bucky said sardonically. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Natasha said. “But in the spirit of fairness, I would be willing to accept a favor. A big one.” Seeing that Bucky was not at all convinced to accept, Natasha archly added, “If I can find you, eventually he will too. You really want to let him try to hug out all the blood on your hands?” She asked calmly. 

Had he not known that she had been in exactly the same position before, Bucky might have taken offense to that. But the truth was that she knew exactly why he couldn’t stand to look at Steve’s big, dumb face right now, even if Mister Patriotism could be convinced to let the most notorious terrorist assassin of all time walk around unchecked. Bucky was in no mood to be forgiven. He didn’t want to be embraced or pardoned. 

He sighed and stashed one of his knives in his waistband so he could run a hand through his unruly hair. “You still always get your way, don’t you?” Bucky said rhetorically. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m willing to owe you one if you keep Steve off my trail. I can set up my own safe houses,” Bucky growled when Natasha opened her mouth to interrupt. 

“How am I supposed to keep him off your trail if I don’t know where your trail leads?” Natasha asked.

“You’re a smart woman,” Bucky said dryly. “You’ll figure something out.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. 

Secretly she was pleased, deeply pleased in point of fact, that they had fallen into their old banter as easily as if not a day had passed since they were last running missions for the Red Room together in France. She didn’t miss those days, not naive enough to romanticize them once they were gone. But she did miss the contained intimacy that she’d had with Bucky (then known as James). Their connection had been like a little fire in the quiet desolation of a snow-besieged wilderness. It was all that kept either of them alive at times, nonetheless feeling human.

“It’s good to see you again, Natashenka,” Bucky whispered in Russian.

“And you, old friend,” Natasha replied in French- a throwback to their last mission together when their cover had been as an engaged couple.

It was two weeks later that Bucky got his first letter from “Your dear friend, Nadine”. 

It was five weeks after that that Natasha showed up unannounced at his new apartment for the first time, demanding to know why he hadn’t written back.

Bucky hadn’t failed to reply to a letter since.  


* * *

  
**One Year Later**

“Ugh, you again,” Bucky said, throwing his sweaty towel at Natasha as he stalked towards his gym’s juice bar. Natasha deftly caught the towel from the air, twisted it with a few quick movements and then snapped it at Bucky’s retreating rear. 

“Ow,” he yelped, rubbing at his buttcheek and shooting Natasha an accusatory scowl. Natasha shrugged and smiled at him, totally unrepentant. 

“How have you been, James?” she asked politely.

“Chicago is great, the shop is doing well, Mr. Marbles still refuses to eat anything I don’t drown in gravy, but I’m pretty sure that’s not why you’re harassing me on my day off,” Bucky said.

“Mr. Marbles?” Natasha asked, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. 

“My cat?” Bucky said, clearly taking more offense from the slight against Mr. Marbles than being spanked with his own towel. 

“You kept that mangey Tom?” Natasha asked incredulously. “It threw up on your shoes and bit you.”

“He just needed some TLC,” Bucky said defensively. “Don’t pretend this is a social call. You don’t do social calls. What’s up, Nat?” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“I think we can both agree that I’ve kept my end of the deal,” she said. Bucky smiled and dumped the change for his customary kale and strawberry power blast smoothie in the tip jar, shooting Natasha a look. She waited until they’d stepped away from the baffled barista to elaborate. “I’m the only Avenger that’s been within a hundred miles of you since the Fall of the Triskelion. I need that favor now.” 

“Why do I not feel good about this?” Bucky muttered to himself.

“Shut up,” Natasha said, elbowing him good-naturedly. Bucky elbowed her back and she rolled her eyes. “You’re so juvenile.” 

“What’s the op?” Bucky asked, breaking their regular banter. 

“Black tie,” Natasha said. “You’re my plus one. I’m a former Ukrainian beauty queen who has dedicated her retirement to children’s charities.”

“Retirement?” Bucky said, looking Natasha up and down slowly. Natasha ducked her head to hide her pleased little grin. 

“Well,” she said reasonably, “once you’ve won Miss Ukraine, what else is there to do?”  
A sharp wolf whistle made Bucky turn around, striking a pose to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and the curve of his ass. He hadn’t been in a suit since before he first got drafted. He found that the sensation of having the smooth wool tailored perfectly to his body (which was in the best shape of his life, thanks to how he’d been using the gym to escape all the shit inside his head) really, really suited him (pun not intended). 

He felt like a million bucks instead of just the one (pun very much intended). Natasha’s predatory eyes taking in all his lines and curves hungrily also gave a nice little stroke to his ego. 

“I definitely chose the right arm candy,” Natasha joked appreciatively. The dark blue of the suit, with its slick black satin lapels, brought out Bucky’s sapphire bright eyes. His styled hair fell just so, and his clean-shaven face gave him a boyish charm Natasha had never seen on him before. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was what the Bucky Barnes who had never held a gun might have looked like. But of course, there was something deep in his eyes and the way they scanned the room every fifteen seconds, a certain set to his mouth, his shoulders, that could mean nothing else but that he was a man who had looked deep into the heart of war and known that something else looked back. 

They were, the both of them, broken. Healing had only made them harder, tougher, firmer. But they had healed before and would again.

Natasha unfolded herself from the chair where she had been waiting in the elegant shop for his final alterations to be finished. She plucked a pair of distinguished glasses from her jacket pocket and balanced them on the bridge of his nose, letting her fingers comb through his hair as she rested the curling ends over his ears. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been undercover?” Natasha asked, brushing imaginary lint off of Bucky’s shoulders. 

“I’m always undercover,” he told her. “It’s a condition of my freedom.”

“Touché,” Natasha said, stepping away from him reluctantly. Bucky almost reached out, slid his hands around her waist and reeled her back in but he held himself back. His foolish heart could hope all it wanted but he and Natasha both knew that there couldn't be anything real between them. With him on the run and her spinning so many plates and playing so many people against each other that she had to resort to Bucky for covert work, a relationship would be impossible. 

“When do we leave?” Bucky asked, straightening his impeccable patterned blue tie in the mirror. He fucking loved this tie (which Natasha had bought for the op) which was several shades lighter than his suit and from a distance appeared to have thin white intersecting lines running all along it. On closer inspection, one could see that it was a pattern of connecting snowflakes, minimalist and strangely masculine. It was the first time he’d ever been on an op where he felt compelled to mentally compare himself to Mia Thermopolis after her transformation (or, as was probably more appropriate, Vivian from _Pretty Woman_ ).

When Bucky realized it had been several seconds with no answer from Natasha he turned around only to find that she’d melted away like morning fog. With a sigh, Bucky took a careful seat in the chair where Nat had been waiting, sure that she would saunter out of one of the dressing rooms and stun him.

And, oh boy, did she ever.

Bucky’s jaw opened as the cloth curtain was pushed back dramatically. Natasha took up one of her customary poses, leaning against the doorframe with her hip cocked out and her arms crossed beneath her bust. Her hair had been gathered up into an elegant side bun, curling tendrils escaping to frame her face. 

When he saw the slinky silk gown she had on though, he had difficulty swallowing. It was a dark blue a few shades lighter and more vibrant than his suit, which clung to her curves. Crystals began to pepper the dress just past her hips, like stars falling from the night sky. They grew more and more densely packed together until they lay thick as freshly packed snow along her hemline, which just barely swept the floor. 

“Fuck,” Bucky said succinctly. 

“Maybe later,” Natasha promised with a saucy little wink that Bucky knew by experience meant that she was hamming it up for her audience a little. Natasha’s phone chimed, breaking the moment. She pulled it out from her little silver clutch and checked the message. 

“The car is here. Time to get serious,” she told him. Bucky stood and extended his arm to her. She took it with an immense air of entitlement that made him smile and the two of them glided through the shop to the exit.  
Even from the curb with the town cars doors closed Bucky could hear the chamber orchestra, amplified as it was through the speakers. A valet opened the door and extended his hand to help first Natasha and then Bucky from the vehicle. The gloves Bucky wore concealed his hand while Natasha promised that the glasses she had chosen for him would distort his face past recognition in any photograph or film image that paps managed to capture. 

His secret was safe but he still felt desperately exposed. Natasha dazzled everyone who laid eyes on her, toying flirtatiously with her white fur stole. 

“Welcome to the Winter Gala to Feed the Children,” the man inside the door said while two women in waistcoats and ties took his and Natasha's coats. “May I have your names please?” 

“Natasha Ovechkin and guest,” Natasha said, letting the Balkans slip into her accent.

“Yes, right, there you are,” the man muttered as he checked their names off on the log. “Just through that door,” he said, point toward where the grand ballroom doors had been propped open. “You’ll find refreshments on your left.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, affecting a thick Russian accent that made the man smile like he was doing it around a fresh chunk of lemon.

“I have eyes on the target,” Natasha whispered to him in Russian. Bucky hummed in response, making a beeline for the mini quiches. 

“James,” Natasha hissed through her clenched teeth. “What the hell?”

“We move in too quick and we spook him. Plus, I haven’t eaten yet.” Bucky was keeping an eye on the target through his reflection in the finely polished silver serving bowls. He was also keeping an eye on the diminishing cream puff situation because that greedy-ass French diplomat was going to get the last one over Bucky’s dead fucking body. 

“Men,” Natasha said. Bucky would have bet his good arm that she was rolling her eyes. “You know, this is why women are such frequent prisoners, I think,” Natasha said half-jokingly. “Put a plate of food in front of you and you all but stand and point like a hunting dog.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying some of life’s finer pleasures,” Bucky retorted, stuffing a bacon and quail canape in his mouth with extreme relish.

“Speaking of which,” Natasha murmured, scanning the crowd as if she didn’t have her eyes on exactly who she was looking for, “it sounds like the orchestra is playing our song. Care to dance, mon cher?” Natasha held out her perfectly manicured hand. The first notes of Vivaldi’s “Winter” had begun playing from the bows and strings of the chamber orchestra which was sitting on a dais in the corner of the room. 

Bucky dumped the last of his food and swept Natasha up, twirling her to the center of the dance floor in a way that made people clap and whistle in their wake. 

“These people really know how to keep to a theme,” Bucky muttered as he artfuly spun his partner and kept a visual on their target out of the corner of his eyes. “Winter” was a fast-paced” almost harsh song, not popular for dancing, at least not in that crowd. Soon enough they were gliding through their own little bubble of space, one of the few pairs braving a song with so much personality. 

“I think the target is checking out your ass,” Natasha snickered. 

“He damn well should!” Bucky said. “Does he have any idea how much you paid for this suit? I’d check out my own ass if I could just find two mirrors at the right angles.” Natasha met his little smile with one of her own.

“This really is like Toulouse all over again. Now, all we need is a balcony, a night breeze, two garrots and an English show dog.”

“I’ve never enjoyed training anyone as much as I enjoyed training you,” Bucky confessed. “Even when things went tits up, like in Toulouse, where I was literally holding a man’s dog hostage to bargain for your life, I was always…. excited. It was only ever thrilling when I was doing it with you.”

“Now, I know that has to be a lie,” Natasha said, smoothly, arching her back into a graceful bow as Bucky dipped her, making sure his rear was within the target’s sightline. 

“Maybe there were other times where I’d taken pride in my work,” Bucky allowed. “But it was never fun. The entire time I was the Winter Soldier I think I only ever had fun when it was with you.” Natasha, never one for words, when actions would suffice, chose that moment to kiss him. Applause erupted around them. Bucky discreetly turned them so that they could both watch the target stalk over to the bar.

“You know what to do,” she whispered, smoothing his tie and pecking his cheek, already growing rough with stubble. Bucky smiled at her and slipped away to the bar.

“Two Mai Tais, please,” Bucky said the bartender, knocking his elbow against the target’s. “Oh, excuse me.”

“Not at all,” the target said touching Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “You’re hard as a rock! You must work out!” Never in his life had Bucky been subjected to such obvious and painfully lurid flirting from a target so undesirable. 

“Every day,” Bucky replied, really playing up the Russian accent. “Oh no!” he exclaimed, patting himself down dramatically. “I left wallet in car. Very embarrassment. Such stupid thing.” Much idiot, Bucky concluded in his own head as the target’s eyes gleamed. 

“Don’t worry,” the target said, “I’ve got this.” The man held up his credit card at the bartender and pointed at Bucky. When things were all cashed out the target turned to Bucky and said, “Do you want me to take you to your car? Maybe we can look for your wallet together.”

“Perfect!” Bucky said with a wide, innocent smile. “Such good friend in America.”

“Oh yes,” the target replied hungrily, watching as Bucky walked away, “Good friends.” Bucky does everything he can not to let his shoulders stiffen up as the target follows to paces behind all the way to the parking garage next to the elegant building. As a very comfortable bisexual, it wasn’t bothering him that the attention was coming from a man. What was bothering him was the knowledge of what a repulsive human being that man actually was. Anyone who had orchestrated more than a dozen mass graves automatically earned a space on Bucky’s list of scumbags who should be forced to clean a prison toilet with their faces.

“Where’s your car?” the target asked as soon as their polished shoes were echoing through the dim cavernous parking garage. “Perhaps we should sit in it for a minute to warm up before we start searching. Their breath was coming out thick and foggy in the chill winter air. Bucky, of course, Bucky knew that wasn’t really why the man wanted to corner him in the backseat. 

“Here,” Bucky called, walking over to the sleek black town car and fiddling around in his pockets, looking for the keys. “Just had keys last minute,” Bucky said comically. Before the target could reply, there was a soft hiss of an aerosol spray. Bucky turned around to see Natasha smirking and the man sputtering and gasping, holding his neck while his mouth flapped like a landed fish. After a few seconds of this, the target fell onto the cold cement with a dull thump. 

“Well, that was easy,” Natasha said, wrapping her stole more firmly around herself and handing Bucky his coat. 

“Don’t say that until the mission’s over,” Bucky grumbled, bending over to hoist the target into the backseat while Natasha held the door for him.

Natasha drove. She insisted on listening to obnoxious pop music the whole way to the target’s hotel, mostly to annoy Bucky. They snuck the unconscious man up the service elevator and swiped his key card without any issues.

While Bucky disheveled the diplomat and the room in general, Natasha hacked into the man’s state-issued laptop and uploaded the files from the USB she’d kept in her silver clutch.  
A polite knock sounded at the door.

“Right on time,” Natasha said appreciatively, glancing at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen. Bucky opened the door and a young prostitute walked in dressed in hot pants and a crop top, her winter coat hanging open to reveal miles of skin.

“Susan,” Natasha greeted, reaching into her clutch to pull out an envelope full of unmarked bills. “How is the degree coming along?” 

“It’s a bitch,” Susan says, counting the money. “But it’ll be worth it in the end.” 

“Second half after it’s done,” Natasha promised. Susan nodded and took a seat, setting a timer on her phone. Bucky saluted her for lack of something more fitting to do and followed Natasha out of the hotel room.  


* * *

  
“You could totally have done that without me,” Bucky pointed out as Natasha kicked off her shoes at the entrance to their hotel room across the street. She snagged a pair of binoculars she’d left by the window before she went to pick Bucky up. Peering through the curtain into the target’s room to assess if the situation was still contained, she didn’t bother to answer.

Bucky sat down on the one queen bed and removed his fancy polished shoes carefully, one at a time. Her chewed on his lip before saying, “Have you been missing me, Nat?” 

His voice was low, warm and husky, and if Natasha had been a less experienced spy it might have sent a shiver up her spine from the very bottom of her low-backed dress. 

She set the binoculars down very deliberately and turned to face Bucky, who was leaning back on his elbows, looking up at her. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, drawing her eyes to where the first few buttons of his dress shirt were undone. 

“You of all people know better than to ask a question like that,” Natasha said gently, stepping out of her flats and curling her toes in the plush carpeting. 

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember?” Bucky asked, fiddling with his cufflinks. 

“Neither of us remembers everything from those days, but that’s not what I was talking about.” Natasha hitched her skirt up to her knees and crawled on the bed over Bucky’s sprawled out legs until she was sitting on his lap with the fabric pooling out around them. “It’s dangerous,” she whispered against his parted lips, caressing his rough cheek, “to want something so much.”

Bucky tilted his head just so, pressing a gentle kiss to her bright red lips. “It’s a good thing we like living dangerously then,” he said, running his nose along the length of hers in an intimate caress. 

Natasha snorted and pushed him back so he was flat on his spine. 

“You’re such a dork,” she chided him as she went to work on the buttons of his shirt. “I really don’t know what I see in you.”

“Me either,” Bucky agreed. He shivered as her pale hand caressed his stomach. It was the precursor to a kiss that smeared lipstick over his navel. She unbuttoned his dress pants and pushed them down over his hips, climbing off his lap and laying next to him as he shed the last of his suit and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Before he could even lay back down she had pulled him back to the bed, caressing his pecs with obvious pleasure.

“Now, where was I?” she asked rhetorically, flicking at one of his pebbled nipples and making him his, and then moan as she kissed it better. “The civilian life suits you,” she said, running her hand over his defined abs and making them flex involuntarily. Whatever Bucky thought about that assessment he chose to keep it to himself, propping his head up on one hand to watch her explore his body instead. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, chewing on his lips as she let her fingertips trail over the downy hairs on his legs, teasing the sensitive skin at the backs of his knees.

“Do you remember when we used to dance?” Natasha whispered into the crease of his hip, teasing his urgently hard cock with her hot breath. It was absolutely the best kind of torture- Natasha could toy with Bucky as easily as a cat batting a feather across the floor. Anticipation became an artform in her capable hands. 

“You were the most graceful woman I’d ever known,” Bucky said, threading her silky hair through his fingers and picking out the bobby pins and tossing them over the side of the bed so that the messy waves and curls fell over her shoulders. “Still are.” 

“It was like flying, with you. Only man who could keep up with me.” She took his cock in hand rubbing it gently with her thumb as though getting acquainted. She pressed a little kiss to the side of it, feeling the heat of him against her lips.

Bucky sat up. Surprised, Natasha sat up too, looking around as if the room might provide some clue as to what was going through Bucky’s mind. 

“You get your mouth on me and I’ll be done in two seconds. I’ve been waiting way too long to get this particular band back together to let that fly,” he told her, reaching out to draw her into a passionate kiss that left no room for doubt about his intentions. Natasha rolled her tongue against his, moaning eagerly into the kiss. 

Bucky’s arms curled around her, petting over the sides of the dress until they found the little, hidden zipper and tugged it down. She pulled away from the kiss just long enough to shrug the garment overhead and toss it away before leaning back in to recapture Bucky’s lips. 

Bucky caressed the delicate curve of her spine, finding new scars over her ribs, and a still tender bruise covering one kidney. Her bare breasts brushed against his chest and he shivered involuntarily. 

“God, I missed you,” he breathed as she guided him to lay flat. Shimmying out of her lace panties, and the thigh holsters where she kept her emergency knives and guns, seemed to take all of Natasha’s attention as she chose not to reply right away. 

“Exactly how much did you miss me?” She asked coyly, curling one leg over Bucky’s and resting her hand on his hip. 

“Enough that I can still remember how you taste. Better than honey,” Bucky crooned, really pouring it on thick. He licked his lips, letting his eyes flick between the fiery patch of hair at the join of Natasha’s legs and her keen gaze. Smiling her pleased little smile, Natasha shuffled up the bed on her knees. 

Bucky grabbed her hips and directed her to turn so that her knees were under his shoulders and he could lean backward to lap at the sweet wet warmth of her core while reaching back to squeeze her ass in both his hands.

A little gasp escape Natasha at the first brush of his tongue, like the sound had been ripped out of her. “Oh fuck,” she grunted, grabbing onto the headboard for support. “God, you’re so good at that.” 

Bucky redoubled his efforts, running his tongue down the length of her, circling her clit and teasing it gently. Natasha keened, an uncharacteristically needy sound, as he worked her over, sneaking his flesh hand between her knees to hold her folds open for better access. 

“Oh,” she panted, her voice higher than he’d heard it since the last time he’d gotten his head between her legs. He never wanted to forget how much she loved this again, the little tremors as her muscles strained to keep her upright under the onslaught of pleasure. 

“Fuck it,” Natasha hissed, falling forward purposely so that she was on resting on her elbows, toying with him by panting over his desperate cock. She gripped the base with one hand and Bucky barely stopped himself from whining in anticipation. 

“I know you like that,” she whispered seductively, pleased by the effect she was having on him. Rolling his balls gently in her other hand, Natasha left a trail of sucking little kisses from his root to his crown, licking at the pearly bead of pre-cum that had gathered there to greet her. 

Bucky rubbed his thumb in soft circles around her clit in response, just enough stimulation to make her shiver, feel the rough edges of his callouses. The wet heat of her mouth enveloped him suddenly, taking him totally by surprise. He cried out against her sweet dripping folds as she ran her tongue around his glans, working all his favorite tricks like she was trying to push him to come before she did.

Bucky gave as good as he got, moaning enthusiastically as they pushed each other towards the precipice of total, mindless bliss.

Natasha cried out suddenly, shuddering against him as her muscles spasmed in the ecstasy of orgasm. He worked her through it, gentling as she rode out the aftershocks and slumped bonelessly against him.

“I would tell you how amazing that was but it would just encourage you,” Natasha mumbled, sounding half asleep. 

“You want to discourage me from helping you achieve earth shattering orgasms?” Bucky asked, stroking her thighs soothingly. 

“Shut up,” she said, hoisting her body up with a groan and crawling forward so that her knees were on either side of his hips. 

“I don’t have a condom,” Bucky told her. 

“I can’t have children and you can’t contract or transmit disease. I’ve seen your blood work,” she reminded him, caressing his cock for a second to give him time to voice any other objection he might have. When none were forthcoming she lined his hard blood-hot prick up with her entrance and sunk down on him with an oversensitized little shudder. 

She rode him quick and hard, and he was howling and gripping at her hips like a lifeline before she made him come. By the time he’d caught his breath she was already curled up beside him, under his flesh arm. She’d even thrown the bed sheet over them both. He never could understand where she got her post-coital energy. Bucky could barely draw breath when Nat was finished with him.

In the distance, police sirens began blaring, heading quickly towards the hotel across the street. Bucky shot a glance to Natasha and they both burst out in laughter.

“It really is like old times,” Bucky huffed. Delighted with this turn of events, Natasha gave him a quick kiss that was more a promise of later ravishing than a heartfelt declaration. Thus satisfied, she slipped from the bed and sauntered over to the window, grabbing the binoculars and peering through the curtains unselfconsciously. Bucky could barely see the red and blue lights bouncing off the distractingly attractive curve of her breasts, the triumphant set of her shoulders.

Some part of him, he knew, would always, always, always love that woman. No matter what came next, or was again forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!!!
> 
> Please leave kudos, comments, etc!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Rekindled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961211) by [kath_ballantyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kath_ballantyne/pseuds/kath_ballantyne)




End file.
